Allie turned, brows furrowed. “What?”
Mia smiled—small, warm, unmissable. “Deal.” allie adams let me try
“Allie Adams… let me try.”
Because for three years, she had been “Allie Adams, the shooter.” But she had never, not once, heard anyone say her name like that: not as a plea, not as a challenge—just as a door opening. Allie turned, brows furrowed
“Fine,” Allie said, tossing the ball underhand. It bounced once, then slapped into Mia’s palms. “Knock yourself out.” brows furrowed. “What?” Mia smiled—small